A Strange Predicament
by night animal
Summary: Sheppard comes home and finds the deceased and pissed off Steve the Wraith on his bed.Before he knows it, they are literally stuck to each other. It's hard to say who's more unhappy about it. T for language.
1. Chapter 1

A Strange Predicament

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or any of its characters, this is just for fun and I don't make any money from it. I do, however, own Devereux and Jameson. I'd love to hear what you think, so please review!:)

Lt Colonel Sheppard heaved a sigh as he entered his room on Atlantis, tearing off his boots and throwing them into a corner. He always got sore feet when he got a pair of new shoes, and this was not an exception. It had been a long, hard day, scampering about on a silly planet that could not offer them much except for rocks. All he wanted now was a nice, hot shower and then his bed. Damn, it was good to be back! He had grown pretty fond of his quarters, now that he had made them his own. His eyes travelled through the semi darkness, passed the shelf with his old copy of _War and Peace_, focused for a moment onto the window looking out on the city of Atlantis, then travelled to the wraith sitting on his bed, to his painting of a growly meerkat, standing on its hind legs (a gift from Rodney)... hey, wait a minute! A wraith...? On his bed...?!! Sheppard's eyes quickly darted back to what he thought he had seen, half expecting the bed to be empty. It wasn't. His gun drawn, John Sheppard quickly turned on the lights.

The wraith had long, silvery hair and a beard that seemed to be parted in two. He wore the typical long, black leather coat of a Wraith commander and heavy, black boots. He also wore a very unpleasant facial expression, one that John remembered only too well.

"_Steve?_" He stared at the wraith, unable to believe what he actually saw. His guest glared back at him and showed his teeth in a predatory grin.

"Sheppard," he hissed. John got a distinct feeling that the Wraith wasn't too keen on him. Not that he could blame him. Last time they saw each other this pale skinned guy had been dying from a rather cruel experiment the Lanteans had exposed him to. He had been poisoned, his whole body shutting down and leaving him gasping with pain and shock. That was enough to make anyone a little grumpy, the Lt Colonel thought. He didn't really regret what had happened; it had seemed the best course of action at the time to allow the experiment to take place. But he hadn't exactly felt like singing with joy as he watched the alien die. No one deserved that kind of suffering. Not even an evil, life-sucking, over sized bug.

"So...," Sheppard said, still aiming his gun at the Wraith's head, "...this is something of a surprise. I mean, no offence, but... you're kind of dead."

The silver haired alien didn't reply. He just watched his host, hatred radiating from every cell of him. It seemed to be beaming out from his body, focusing through his eyes... John had seen his share of hate and anger, but this seemed to go beyond everything he'd experienced before. He could actually feel the area around him turning cold. Hell, this thing shouldn't even be alive! And yet, here it was. In his bedroom. Sheppard had the unsettling feeling of his intestines changing places, leaving his heart somewhere around his Adam's apple and his gut... heck, he wasn't sure where it was right now! Somewhere down his pants, probably. Trying to keep his face expressionless, he tapped the microphone fastened over his cheek and spoke out into the silence: "Security, we have an intruder. My quarters. Get your arses here!"

"Yes, Sir," a voice replied, sounding somewhat surprised. Sheppard kept his gun pointed at his guest, but the latter didn't seem to care. He laughed - a raspy, mirthless chuckle - and looked back at him, his yellow reptile eyes cold. Despite the fact that he was sitting down and Sheppard was standing, the Wraith managed to look down at him through lowered eyelids, clearly showing his contempt for the man in front of him. John just stared right back at him, hiding his fear while asking:

"So... you eat anyone tasty lately?"

Sergeant Jameson was confused. He had known Lt Colonel Sheppard for quite some time and never mistrusted him. If the Lt Colonel said something, then it was true. If he had said that they had been invaded by giant, living carrots Jameson would seriously have considered the possibility of such an event. Honestly. But this was getting embarrassing.

"Lt Colonel, where is the intruder, Sir?" The Sergeant and his colleague Devereux were ready with their rifles, eager to jump any enemy that presented itself. Sheppard stared at them.

"What the hell do you mean? It's right there! On my bed!"

The Marines turned their eyes to where the Lt Colonel pointed.

"Where, Sir?"

"Right there! Are you friggin' blind?! There's a bloody Wraith in front of you!" John shouted, waving his arms viciously. His subordinates exchanged a quick glance. This day had been tiring for them all. The Lt Colonel had always seemed mentally stable, but they all knew the constant pressure he was under. There was only so much you could demand from another human being. Right now – bare foot, dirty, with a gun in his hand and his dark hair sticking out in all directions –Sheppard did not quite seem himself. His waving and frantical gibbering about an invisible wraith didn't make him seem less strange.

"Erm... Sir? Perhaps you should get some rest, Sir..." Devereux suggested in a very mild voice. His superior gave him a dirty look.

"I know what's real and what's not!" he snapped, "And there's a wraith on my bed! Look! He's wrinkling up my goddamn sheets with his big, fat wraith arse!"

There was an awkward silence. The Marines didn't seem to know what to do, so they looked at the floor, the ceiling, the big windows, Sheppard's Meerkat painting... anything but him. And it suddenly dawned on John that this time he was alone. Completely, utterly alone.

"Er... Sir, shall we search your quarters just in case...?" Jameson suggested, rather uneasily. He didn't get an answer at first. The Lt Colonel was just standing there, gazing at his bed with an odd expression on his face. "No," he finally answered, his voice calm and steady. "No, I'll take care of that myself. Thank you. Dismissed."

His men quickly ran off, almost as though they were frightened of him.

"Move it, Wraith! I'm tired," John snapped, grabbing the covers from his bed and glaring at the intruder. The latter shot him a look of pure loathing and didn't move one inch.

"Hey! If you're gonna be all ghosty here, you'll have to follow my rules. This is MY bed. You sleep where the hell you want, but not here. Get it, _Steve_?"

A growl escaped the alien's throat and he lashed out with his hand as if to feed on his enemy. It didn't quite work the way he meant it to. First his hand went straight through the chest of his reluctant host, who didn't flinch. Snarling, the Wraith male attempted to draw back his arm – and was stuck. Shocked and frustrated, he tried to pull free from his enemy, seeing his own hand sticking out of Sheppard's back. The latter gasped and drew back, involuntarily dragging the now panicking wraith with him.

The struggle went on for several minutes, and neither of them ever forgot it. They kept dragging each other all over the room, fighting furiously, Sheppard using every curse he could remember and a few he made up - but that didn't help one bit. They were both, irrevocably, stuck. Big time. Finally, they stopped, the human panting heavily and the wraith growling with frustration. For a brief moment he had hoped that he could actually inflict harm on this puny human, but that had turned out to be wrong. He was never going to get his revenge if this continued, and now he was stuck to this... this... lowly creature! The indignity of it all!

Sheppard wasn't exactly enjoying himself either. The arm through his chest didn't exactly hurt, but it felt... wrong. Each time the creature moved, he could feel it. Glaring into the eyes of his reluctant companion, he finally opened his mouth to say something besides curses.

"So... what the hell do we do now?" the Lt Colonel asked.


	2. Chapter 2

A Strange Predicament, Chapter 2.

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis etc.

Thank you so much for reviewing, Flowerhead101 and azaelia4328! I really appreciate it. Unfortunately, I had to delete the former version of the first chapter when I made changes (I haven't quite gotten this yet), so your reviews were deleted too:( . That's also the reason that chapter has been posted again and again; I was trying to make changes to it, but couldn't get it to work so I reuploaded it and... well, you can imagine. I apologize for the mess! It's rather embarrassing, actually!

"Christ, what's that knocking!" Dr Becket sat up groggily in his bed, feeling like his brains were swimming around inside his head, bouncing into each other. His day had been just as bad as John's – in some ways worse. Whenever somebody tripped and sprained an ankle on that lousy, rocky planet, they called for him. Whenever Rodney swallowed a fly or happened to brush some strange plant, he immediately ran up to Becket, blabbering and whining about "poinsonous tentacles" and "disease spreading insects", making everyone slightly uncomfortable. And then there was the fact that all the Marines were well trained, used to running around in God-knows-what kind of terrain, making him feel like he was the weakest, most unfit person in the whole Universe. Well, maybe except for Rodney. Dr Carson Becket was exhausted. All he wanted was to sleep, sleep and ... oh, yes – sleep some more. But being a doctor meant being on call basically all the time. You never knew what was going to happen."Oh, dear...," the Scot thought to himself, "what is it now? Did Rodney touch one of those ancient devices again? Bet the lad is turning into some sort of a man-eating tomatoe, or something..." Sighing, he went to open his door.

"Ah! John... what a surprise..." Carson yawned, scratching his forehead. The Lt Colonel was standing in front of him, a strange look on his face, his feet bare and his skin oddly pale.

"Something wrong, lad?" The Doctor inquired, starting to feel worried. He had never seen John looking so... well, weird. Haunted, somehow. John's dark eyes were staring intensely into Carson's blue ones, his face wet with perspiration.

"I need your help, Doctor. Something kind of... weird happened to me."

"Oh... well, come on in..." the Doctor started to say, but Sheppard was already pushing his way past him, aiming for a green wooden chair by one of the walls. When he came up to it he seemed to hesitate, though, gazing at it almost as though he'd forgotten how to use this piece of furniture. Carson watched him as he made some sort of odd dance around the chair, finally managing to sit down on the edge of it, glaring in front of him. "Hey, I need to sit!" he seemed to say to someone invisible in front of him, "I've had a bad day, al right? You'll just have put up with it... hell, I don't know! Just kneel, or something... and stop fidgeting!"

"Who are you talking to, Sheppard?" Becket asked, frowning while walking up to his friend.

"Steve," replied the other man matter-of-factly.

"Erm... Steve?" Carson stared at Sheppard, trying to understand what the latter was on about. "And who might this... Steve-person be?" he asked cautiously, slowly reaching out a hand to feel the Colonel's forehead. The latter glowered at him.

"I'm not sick, Carson," he muttered. When the other man didn't answer, he sighed and decided to break it to him right away:

"I've a Wraith ghost attached to my chest," Lt Colonel John Sheppard quietly explained, eyeing the Doctor carefully.

'Steve' the Wraith was having a horrible time. Sheppard kept doing pretty much what he wanted to, forcing the alien warrior to move along whether he liked it or not. Right now, this lowly creature had him literally down on his knees, while the human had grabbed the only good chair available. 'Steve' growled, baring his teeth. The human ignored him completely. And now this nosy 'Doctor Carson'-individual har begun to get far too close, actually walking straight through his body to feel the other human's face. The Wraith glared at him, but Becket seemed oblivious. All he worried about was the Colonel.

"You've got a Wraith? Here? On your chest?" Carson looked at John, cocking an eyebrow. Sheppard groaned.

"Not _on_ my chest, more like _stuck through _it. I know how it sounds, but..."

"It sounds completely barmy," Becket stated.

"I know! I know... it's ridiculous, but it just... happens to be true. When I came home he was there, in my room..." John explained, only to add a rather aggressive "I told you to stop fidgeting! Damn, that tickles!" He looked up just in time to see the Doctor eyeing him warily.

"Sorry," he added apologetically, "Steve won't be still, he's really annoying." The alien shot him a contemptuous look, throwing back his long, white hair with a sneer. John growled and winced. He could feel every move the other being made, it was quite unsettling. Carson obviously thought so too. He'd gotten rather pale by now.

"Look, I know how all this sounds..." John began, but was interrupted by Becket who, with a tired look in his eyes, responded:

"No, I don't think you do, John. You're saying that a Wraith – a Wraith that nobody but you can see, I might add – has attached itself right through your chest. How the Bloody Hell could that possibly happen? I'm sorry, lad, but this is a bit rich."

"But it's a ghost-..."

"I think you need to sleep. You've had a long day, and..."

"Just how the HELL am I going to do that?!" the Colonel yelled, jumping up so forcefully he almost knocked 'Steve' over. The Wraith warrior hissed angrily but there wasn't much he could do except hang on when his enemy took a few steps closer to the Doctor and went on raging:

"What am I supposed to do with him when I go to bed, eh?! Tuck him in?! _Lend him a pillow???!!!_"

"It's no use yelling at me, John," Becket replied, holding up his palms in an appeasing manner. "If you want something to sleep on I can give you that, but you have to understand how crazy this..."

"You know what? Never mind!" Sheppard snapped and began walking towards the door. "You don't believe me? Fine!"

"John, please..." Carson began, but his friend was already out the door and didn't seem to hear him.

"Bloody hell...," the Doctor mumbled to himself, shaking his head. "I'd better check on him. In the morning..."

John Sheppard marched furiously through the corridor towards his quarters, muttering curses under his breath. His Involuntary Companion - who was forced to walk backwards whenever John moved forwards - was chuckling quietly, apparently taking some kind of gloating pleasure in the situation.

"What are you laughing at?" the dark haired man snapped, glowering maliciously at the Wraith. "May I remind you that as long as we're stuck together you can't go anywhere either?" he added, sarcastically. The alien smirked.

"I have no need for sleep," he pointed out, looking at his enemy through lowered eyelids.

"Well, good for you," the Lt Colonel muttered.

"You, on the other hand, will find it hard to sleep with my arm through your body," the green skinned humanoid replied, grinning. John shrugged, but immediately regretted doing it. The sensation of the Wraith's arm lightly brushing his heart was extremely unpleasant. He rolled his eyes instead and sneered at his adversary.

"Don't think you can stop me from sleeping, _Steve_," he answered, his voice soft as silk. "I'll go to bed now, because I'm tired, and I'll drag you with me and nail your arse to the bed if I have to. Is that perfectly clear?"

'Steve' scowled.

An hour later John lay in his bed, sound asleep. The Wraith lay beside him, his arm in a rather odd position, and tried not to think of the indignity of his current situation. At first, he'd done everything to annoy Sheppard, moving just so that the latter wouldn't be able to sleep. It had been quite amusing in the beginning, for his enemy was apparently very ticklish and hated feeling his touch. The silverhaired alien turned and twisted as much as he could, threats and curses raining over him. It was oddly satisfactory. Sheppard even grabbed a pillow and hit him with it. But after a while the human became extremely boring. John seemed to adapt quickly, and he soon stopped reacting to the Wraith's movements. Perhaps he was simply so exhausted it didn't matter what was done to him?

'Steve' looked up at the ceiling, waiting patiently for Sheppard to wake up. After all, he had all the time in the Universe - he could always torment the human later. Of course it was a nuisance to be stuck with that lowly creature like this, but he would find a way to fix this situation; he always did. In fact, his Queen had complimented him on several occasions for his ability to come up with a creative solution to almost any problem. So, instead of worrying he started reflecting on what had happened since he died. It was rather interesting, actually. One moment he was squirming and thrashing in agony on the floor in that Lantean cell, knowing he was dying and hating the humans for what they had done to him – a warrior! The next moment there was light. A far too bright light, he didn't want to enter it... all he could think was _revenge._ That thought seemed to take over his mind, pouring through his entire being. And then he was suddenly here, on this very bed. Whatever happened in between he had no recollection of. He supposed he would just have to accept that. His Goddess had offered him a great gift – the gift of vengeance. She must think him worthy or he wouldn't be here. He would not waste the opportunity she offered him. The Wraith turned to look at his enemy and leered to himself. Perhaps it was a good thing that nobody but Sheppard seemed to be able to see him. At first the Wraith warrior had actually begun to wonder if he'd lost his ability to intimidate these beings, but now he realised that wasn't the problem. Apparently most humans couldn't see those who had passed on to the next existence. He could use that to torment Sheppard; make him lose his career and his friends. Humans depended very much on the affection of others. It was strange, though... The yellow-eyed alien tilted his head thoughtfully. This species was certainly odd. Weren't they descendants of the race called The Ancients, who had later ascended to the next world? If they were, how come they didn't sense him? Of course he knew they were pitiful telepaths, but that was something else... 'Steve' was quite bemused.


	3. Chapter 3

A Strange Predicament, Ch 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis. Period. This is just for fun.

Thank you for your reviews! They make it so much easier to carry on writing, and they help me come up with new ideas. I have tried to give Steve a little more dialogue in this chapter, but it's not very easy to make him talk!:) He mostly sneers and glowers...:D Anyway, please tell me what you think!

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John awoke with a start. His head ached, his chest felt like something alive was trying to push its way out through his ribcage… oh, yeah. He actually had someone doing precisely that, although not strictly somebody alive. With a groan, he turned in his bed to look at the alien by his side. The Wraith lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a thoughtful look on his otherwise rather expressionless face. When he felt Sheppard's eyes upon him, he turned his own cat-like ones towards him.

"Good morning," said John, trying – and failing – to sound casual. To wake up with a Wraith in his bed was not something he'd ever wanted on his To-Do-list. The other male cocked an eye brow – well, what little of an eye brow that he actually had – and smirked.

"You make strange noises while you sleep, Human", he observed, sounding both amused and annoyed.

"Well...," Sheppard said, his voice dripping with sarcasm "It's something humans do. It's called snoring. You better get used to it if you plan on sticking around!"

The Wraith warrior sneered.

"It does not look as though I have much of a choice, does it?" he sulked.

John didn't reply. He was in great need of a shower, and was trying to figure out just how the Hell he'd manage to squeeze in the alien with him in the small shower cabin. There was another, more accute problem as well: he really, _really _had to pee. It certainly seemed this was going to be an interesting day... Oh, well. He'd better get started if he didn't want to have an Extremely Embarrassing Accident. John stretched his legs a bit, then sat up – dragging the Wraith with him in the process. The latter frowned and gave him a rather irritated glare, but Sheppard pretended not to notice it.

"Let's go," he yawned, trying to get up on his feet - something that turned out to be slightly diffcult considering that his silverhaired companion seemed to have no wish whatsoever to get up. Frustrated, John made a new try to get out of his bunk – only to find himself firmly anchored to it. 'Steve' grinned at him, obviously enjoying himself.

"You wanna stay in this bed forever?!" the Colonel snapped, grabbing one of the bed posts and pulling furiously. The Wraith replied by firmly gripping the small table by John's bunk and pulling back. The Colonel immediately lost his balance, tripped over his own feet and landed on top of 'Steve' – who huffed with surprise and shock and then began hissing angrily, showing off a mouth full of very sharp teeth.

"Get off me, Human!"he snarled.

"I'm trying to, you big, annoying... dung beetle." Sheppard pulled for all he was worth and somehow managed to roll off 'Steve' and stand up beside the matress. He was still very much stuck to the Wraith – who had been pulled upwards as John moved and was now sitting on the side of the bed - but at least he wasn't almost-cuddling him!

"You are just cattle," the reptile-eyed creature scoffed, his mouth twisted with disgust. "When I am free-..."

"-you'll feed off me, right? You're repeating yourself, _Steve_," the Lt Colonel interrupted in a bored voice. "Besides, dead Wraith don't feed. Tough luck, eh?"

His companion stood up and shot him a murderous look, after which he pointedly turned away. Well, he couldn't turn very much with his arm half-way through his enemy's body, but it was obvious that he was trying very hard to show his displeasure. Sheppard found himself almost feeling sorry for the creature. This situation must be very hard for him. After all, he was not only dead – he was now dependent on a member of a species he despised and saw as food. But, hey! No one asked him to come here in the first place! The Colonel sighed.

"How about a shower?" he suggested.

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"That is disgusting," the Wraith pointed out, staring increduously at the toilet. John rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well... if you'd prefer me to pee my pants and make us both stink for the rest of the day..." he began. The warrior gave him a scornful glance, but that couldn't quite hide the fact that his face became slightly paler.

"You humans are strange and revolting," he stated. Sheppard shrugged – and instantly regretted it. "Damn, I never learn!" he muttered to himself, trying not to think of the Wraith skin touching his insides. His green guest didn't seem to notice his discomfort. 'Steve' was busy looking at the roll of toilet paper, his features drawn in a bemused expression. For a moment, the dark haired man considered explaining the use of said object but decided against it. Instead, he pointed at the shower cabin.

"We need to clean ourselves up a bit," he said. The alien turned his head in the direction of the shower. His eyes travelled from the cabin to the towel, and then to John. He didn't look impressed.

"Inside _that_?"

"Yeah, inside that. There's a water tap in there."

"And you expect me to go in there with you, a lowly human?" the Wraith warrior demanded, a disgusted look on his face.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do," John replied silkily, his dark eyes turning the cold colour of steel.

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"GRRROOAAARRRRR!!! HOW DARE YOU!!!" The roar of the Warrior echoed through Sheppard's quarters, mingling with John's impatient retorts.

"It's just soap! It wasn't even meant for you, stop acting like an idiot-"

"_You have made me blind!_"

"Shut up and stand still, you stupid, bad-ass ghost," the human snapped, trying to rinse the Wraith's face with a jet of water. The latter growled threateningly, his hair soaked and his yellow eyes reduced to slits. Water drenched his coat and filled his boots – there wasn't one inch of him that wasn't wet! And now this puny creature had the audacity of trying to blind him with an unknown substance! There was only so much that the Queen's Warrior would take! With a snarl that would have made a lion nervous, said warrior stomped off, dragging a soapcovered - and cursing - Sheppard with him. He was never going to shower again. Ever. The human would just have to stink, period. Leaving a wet trail behind them, human and Wraith struggled across the bedroom, Sheppard trying to get back to the bathroom and the alien doing everything in his power to prevent it. The were so wrapped up in their fight, each pulling and dragging and spitting insults to the other, that neither of them noticed they were not alone anymore. Not until a quiet, female voice announced the presence of one of John's closest friends.

"What is going on here, John?" Teyla Emmagan asked.


	4. Chapter 4

A Strange Predicament, ch 4

Disclaimer: I don't own SGA.

Thank you so much for the reviews! I decided to make a few changes to this chapter – mainly I've changed Sheppard's injury a bit. I realised Stealth Dragon was probably right when pointing out that our friend might not be able to move the way he does in this fic if his leg is broken.:) I've also altered John's cursing a bit, to make it more American. Thanks again for the reviews, guys! A special, big thanks to those of you who have stuck with me for several chapters now and helped me develop the story by coming up with ideas. A certain Aidan comes to mind.:)

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"Teyla!" Sheppard gasped, instantly forgetting what he was doing and thus giving his adversary the perfect opportunity to knock him over on his back. His friend just gazed at him, her brown eyes wide with shock. 'Steve' was grinning broadly, apparently finding this situation very amusing. John found it hard to share his mirth. There he was, sprawled naked on his floor, covered in soap from head to toes – all right in front of a beautiful woman whom he'd really fancied when she first came aboard Atlantis. This was just not... funny!

"Erm...," he began, trying desperately to find a viable explaination for his... predicament.

"You know... I could come back later, if you like." The bronze skinned woman suggested, glancing towards the door behind her. She did not seem... quite at ease, he noted. Blushing, the naked man started to get up on his feet, only to slip on his soapy feet and fall backwards, his right leg in a very strange angle. The green skinned alien, who was busy gloating, lost his balance as well and landed on his butt next to the human. He made an angry noise far back in his throat and tried to kill his 'comrade in misery' with his eyes, but John didn't even notice. His leg felt like it was burning and he groaned with pain. Teyla's look of embarrassment instantly turned into one of concern when she saw that her friend was hurt.

"Are you al right, John? Here, let me help you," she offered, reaching out her hand to him. He grasped it, cursing under his breath as he allowed her to help dragging not only him, but his ghostly companion as well, to their feet. Well, in fact Sheppard quickly found that he couldn't actually stand on his right foot – his leg really hurt like Hell when he tried to lean on it.

"Let's get you to sick bay," the Athosian said, supporting him with one arm and grabbing a blanket that happened to be lying on his bed with the other. She frowned as she tried to cover his naked form with it and grew really impatient as she attempted to fasten it across his chest, using some sort of a hairpin she had found in her pocket.

"What is this?" she asked irritably, trying to brush away 'Steve's arm from her friend's ribcage. "Foam? Cobweb? What have you been doing???"

The Wraith gazed at her increduosly. The nerve of this woman! Comparing him with cobwebs?! _Foam???_ How dare she?!

"Ignorant, idiotic human!" he sneered, looking at her through lowered eyelids. But John wasn't interested in his enemy's retorts. Something else was of a lot more value to him.

"You can see...him?" he inquired, unable to believe it. _Finally_, he thought, ignoring the searing pain in his leg.

"Him? Who's 'him'?" The young woman was beginning to regret coming here. Carson had asked her to check on Sheppard, because apparently he had behaved very strangely last night and the Doctor wanted to make sure he was ok. His concern was obviously well founded.

"Er... what you describe as cobweb is actually... er, Steve. Remember him?" The Colonel asked, looking at her with a hopeful glimmer in his dark eyes. (It was immediately replaced with a flash of pain as he involuntarily moved his injured leg.) The woman in front of him frowned again, obviously trying to understand what he was saying.

"Steve...? You mean...?"

"Yeah!" John exclaimed, waving one of his arms enthusiastically – something he instantly regretted as he almost lost balance and his leg once again got in the way. "The Wraith guy. The one we... er, held prisoner," he continued, his face contorting with pain.

No reply. Teyla was watching him quietly, her face nearly expressionless. The Colonel cast a quick glance at the alien, hoping he would do something that proved his existence to his female companion. He couldn't bear the idea of Teyla looking at him the way Carson had the night before. But 'Steve' didn't do anything. He just watched the young female in front of him, a mixture of comtempt and curiousity on his face, cocking his silvery head slightly. He was obviously not going to help one bit. Sighing, John turned his eyes towards his friend again, trying to hide a wince as the ghost's arm moved inside him.

"I know how stupid this is, believe me! But there is actually a wraith ghost here and his f*cking arm is stuck through my friggin' chest. There's nothing I can do and... ow!" He grimaced. This leg was becoming a real pain in the arse! Teyla didn't say anything. She just put an arm around his waist and nodded towards the door. It was impossible for him to tell what she was thinking, as they slowly approached the corridor that led to Dr Becket's infirmary.

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The Wraith warrior looked at the equipment around him with clear interest, taking in the medicinal instruments and the cots, letting his golden eyes focus at one thing at a time. There were so many strange objects in this room. It was obviously an infirmary, but he hardly recognised any of the equipment. John noted his interest, but didn't feel like commenting on it. He had enough problems trying to convince the good Doctor that he wasn't insane, exhausted, constipated or God-Knows-What-Else. Teyla was watching him warily as Becket took care of his injured leg and examined his chest for – well, anything out if the ordinary, really. He certainly couldn't see the "cobweb" the Athosian had mentioned.

"I'm sorry, lass, but I can't find anything wrong with him – apart from his leg, that is. You sure you saw something?"

"Yes," Teyla replied, her voice calm and reflective. "I did see something and it's still there, next to his heart. It looks a bit like... grey mist. But I have no idea what it is or where it comes from."

"Well, I do," snapped her supposedly sick friend, rolling his eyes. "There's an oversized ghost dungbeetle-"

"Yes, we've heard that, Sheppard." Becket sounded tired and irritable. 'Steve' made a mock sympathetic face towards "his" human, bent down over his right ear and whispered softly:

"Your friends think that you are insane. I wonder how long it will take before they lock you up. Or put you to sleep?" He smirked. The Colonel glowered back at him.

"We humans don't kill people just because they are crazy, you smart-ass bug," he sneered. Becket gave him an odd look.

"Talking to 'Steve' again?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Yeah, he's a real doofus," the Colonel replied matter-of-factly. The alien warrior leered at him but said nothing. John made an effort to stand up, but was pushed back unto the cot by the Doctor before even the Wraith managed to get in the way. Carson shot him one of his _Don't-You-Dare_-looks.

"What do you think you are doing, Mister? You have an injured leg, for Christ's sake!"

The other man rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I've got an injured leg – not a broken neck! I'll just go to my quarters and-"

"You will do nothing of the sort, lad." The Doctor's voice had an iron quality to it. John opened his mouth to argue, and then happened to take a look at Carson's face. It was firmly set in the _Don't-You-Mess-With-Me-Or-I'll-Chain-You-To-Your-Bloody-Bed_-mode. With a sigh, the human named Sheppard groaned impatiently and attempted to lean back on the cot. The ghost's hand instantly got in the way, and he had to shift his weight onto his right side instead of his back. It didn't exactly help that they were both wet and smeared with soap, either. He was quite sure there would be a wet, slippery trail leading from his quarters to the infirmary.

His alien companion did nothing to make him more comfortable, either. John had a feeling the creature was having a far too good time messing with him. An amused leer seemed to be planted on the Wraith's face as he watched Becket put away his instruments and Teyla grab a small chair at the end of her friend's cot and place herself onto it, crossing her long legs. 'Steve' looked at her rather well-trimmed thighs and his leer became even broader. John didn't like this at all!

"Stop that," he snarled at the alien. The latter – who had finally taken a seat beside him on the cot, his butt probably leaving a big, wet mark - slowly turned his cat eyes towards the human and grinned. He looked more like a predator than ever, the Colonel thought.

"Stop what, if I may ask?" the Wraith replied innocently, cocking an eye brow.

"Stop... ogling her, you pervert!"

"John...?" Teyla rose from her chair and started approaching Sheppard, her eyes worried.

"I'm talking to that gross, sicko-" her friend began, glaring furiously.

"You are the one who wants to mate with her," 'Steve' pointed out. "How come that is not perverted?" he smirked.

The Colonel gaped.

"What the friggin' Hell are you talking about??? I'm not...I don't...You are not even the same species!"

"And that makes it wrong for me to appreciate a well-built physical form?"

"YES! You're a FUCKING WRAITH!!!"

"Carson, I think you need to come here", Teyla yelled, turning her head to look for the Doctor. She felt her friend was getting far too agitated. Becket, who had been talking to Dr Weir on the radio, instantly came running.

"I'm sorry, Sheppard, but I had to tell Elizabeth," he informed his patient as he sprinted up to the cot. "She needs to know about the... er, situation."

Sheppard rolled his eyes.

"Great! Just great... Don't tell me... she's coming here to visit yours truly, isn't she?"

Becket at least had the good taste to look guilty, John thought.

"I am sorry, but I have a responsibility..." he began, shuffling his feet a little. His dark haired patient opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a strange sound. 'Steve' was snorting with laughter, his wet hair and clothes dripping on the sheet. Both Teyla and Carson immediately spun around, as if looking for someone.

"What's that sound?" the Athosian called out. Her voice mingled with the rather panicky "What's that?!", coming from Carson. Surprised, the patient and his..."companion" watched the other two as said individuals started tearing up cupboards and peeking under the beds, saying things like _Who's there?_ and _Is this some kind of joke? Maybe Rodney...? _and _Didn't it sound like someone laughing?_. Puzzled, John sought the eyes of his Favourite Enemy and asked:

"Do you think they heard...?" The other male shrugged.


	5. Chapter 5

A Strange Predicament, chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own SGA etc etc etc…

Hi again!:) As you may have noticed (?), I made a few changes to this chapter. I agree, Aidan, I think John would at the very least try more to convince the others that what they hear is actually the wraith ghost!:) Thanks again for reviewing! It really makes me happy.:D

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Dr Elizabeth Weir was having a very strange day. This morning she was having breakfast in her little office, while looking through a rather odd report that Rodney McKay had filed the other day. She had been reading it over and over again several times now, but it did not get any the less weird, no matter how many times she read it. Shaking her head, the brown-haired woman took another sip of her coffee and leaned back in her chair. "I wonder what he was thinking!! she said to herself. The idea of mutant lemons seemed absolutely crazy to her now, just as it had when she first read his report. "This thing with lemons is turning into a phobia of his" , Elizabeth muttered and poured some cereal in a breakfast bowl. "What is wrong with this place? Everybody seems to be losing it lately," she pondered.

_Brrreeep_ said the radio. The doctor jumped in her chair and immediately spilled coffee all over her red top. "Wonderful," she muttered through clenched teeth. "This is my third shirt today!" She impatiently tapped her microphone and snapped:

"Yes?"

"Ah, Dr Weir!" A soft voice - with the musical sound that the Scottish accent gave it - replied. "It is Beckett here," he added. She noted that he sounded slightly...agitated.

"Yes?"

"We're having a bit of a situation here..."

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The door to the infirmary slid open and revealed a somewhat unusual scene to the CO of Atlantis as she entered. A certain Lt Colonel John Sheppard was lying on a cot with his right leg wrapped up in bandages and dressed only in a red blanket. He looked both cranky and agitated, she noted. There was a big, moist stain next to him on the bed. "He didn't wet himself... did he?!" she thought to herself, feeling slightly uneasy. As she turned her head to take in the rest of the room, she realised the Colonel was not the only one who didn't exactly seem like himself. Teyla Emmagan was standing on a stool in front of a medicinal cabinet, rummaging through said cupboard with a feverish look on her face, muttering to herself. Doctor Beckett was on his hands and knees half-way under one of the cots, saying something about "That Bloody Rodney!".

"Believe me, it's not Rodney. It's 'Steve'!" Sheppard protested, trying to sit up without squirming too much.

"Of course it is, John," his Scottish comrade replied, his voice so exaggerated in it's friendliness that it was obvious he took the Colonel for a complete lunatic. The latter groaned impatiently.

"Hey, if I make him talk – then, will you believe me?" he asked, glowering in front of him. Dr Weir got a distinct impression that he was looking at somebody – a 'somebody' he really didn't like. This was getting more strange by the minute.

"May I ask what is going on here?" asked Elizabeth, frowning slightly as Carson jumped and banged his head under the bed, cursing in a language that almost sounded like Gaelic – but perhaps he was just using words she had not heard before.

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"Let me see if I got this right..." Dr Weir sat down on an empty bed, taking a quick look at the people that surrounded her. "John, you are saying that you hurt your leg as you were wrestling with an invisible wraith ghost, namely 'Steve', who just happens to be stuck to your chest."

John rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," he growled. There was slight tone of sarcasm in his voice. He cast a glance at his Wraith Companion, who gave him a sneer, before he returned his attention to Elizabeth.

"And you, Teyla, are saying there's some kind of mist protruding from his chest,"said the Commanding Officer of Atlantis, her voice tired.

"Yes, Dr Weir. I realise it sounds odd, but I can really see it," the Athosian replied, composed and dignified as usual. Elizabeth looked sternly into her eyes, but could not see any signs that the other woman was making fun of her.

"And all of you are claiming to have heard a non-corporeal voice in this very room." Their leader stated in an even tone.

"Non-corporeal my ass!" her second in command snapped, pretending not to notice the broad grin on his Alien Enemy's face. "He's corporeal enough to be stuck to me, the leather-pervert-bastard!" The others just stared at him, blankly. (Well, all except for 'Steve', who tilted his head a little and mimed "leather-pervert-bastard?" at his human 'friend', cocking his eye brows and laughing inaudibly.)

"I see," Dr Weir said quietly.

No one spoke for a minute or so. John was fidgeting slightly on his bed, as he was beginning to feel extremely restless. He hated just sitting like this, not doing anything productive with his time. And then there was the fact that he really needed to get the Wraith warrior to expose his presence to the others. What would make him talk? The Colonel eyed his green comrade-in-misery thoughtfully. Of course, the creature did not seem at all miserable, he noted. In fact,

'Steve' seemed to really enjoy this situation. He was now leering to himself, turning his cat-like slits towards one human at a time. When his gaze fell upon Dr Weir, he tilted his head and made a move as to get closer to her. Sheppard grabbed unto his bed, trying to hold back his ghostly 'pal' by leaning backwards.

"Oh no, you don't!" he hissed and got a strange look from the others.

"What?!" he snapped, glaring at them. Teyla and Beckett exchanged a quick glance.

"Nothing, lad," Carson replied in a calming voice. He sounded as though he were trying to stop someone from leaping off a bridge. John rolled his eyes. Dr Weir shot a strange look at him, rose from the cot she was sitting on and slowly walked up to him, her brown eyes filled with concern.

"Look, John..." she began, reaching out as if to touch his cheek. The alien warrior immediately sniffed her hair appreciatively.

"Hey!" his 'siamese twin' yelled, making the woman jump with surprise and quickly draw back.

"This human smells interesting," the Wraith pointed out, nodding towards Dr Weir. Disgusted, John opened his mouth to retort, when it dawned on him what just happened.

"_You heard that, didn't you?!_" he shouted to his friends, triumphantly. No one seemed to hear him. The second the ghost spoke, both Teyla and Carson started, screamed and practically leaped up from their sitting positions, looking feverishly about them.

"There it is again!" Doctor Beckett cried, enthusiastically. Elizabeth, who happened to stand close to him, massaged her ear and gave him an annoyed glare.

"Oh... sorry, Doctor!" Carson blushed a little. "But you heard that, right?"

"Heard what?" Dr Weir was beginning to seriously consider the idea that everyone on Atlantis was going bananas.

"The voice," The Athosian explained, watching Elizabeth with a wondering expression on her face.

"The voice?"

"The voice that said 'the human smells interesting', or something to that effect," Beckett said, tearing open a closet near the window. "AHA!!!" he yelled, peeking into the darkness.

"What?" John, Teyla and Elizabeth all turned to stare at him. As did the Wraith, with a puzzled look on his face. It soon turned into an amused smirk, as he watched the good doctor.

"'AHA', there's... nothing there..." Carson sighed in disappointement. Elizabeth just gazed at him. Then she slowly shook her head, looking at the floor.

"I am really sorry – " she said, but was rudely interrupted by Carson who said:

"You think us all crazy now, don't you?"

Dr Weir sighed.

"No," she lied, " I don't think you're crazy. But I do think that perhaps you should all speak to Dr Heightmeyer."

"Yeah, great!" shouted her pilot friend from his cot. "Let her twist our minds inside out and convince us all that we are fucking insane! This will be _sooo_ fun..." Elizabeth visibly stiffened.

"John, you are going to Dr Heightmeyer whether you like it or not! Is that perfectly clear?" she said, whole mountains of ice in her voice.

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"This is all your fault!" Sheppard hissed at 'his' green skinned alien, as they sat in Dr Heightmeyer's waitingroom (she'd just had it made because it turned out some of the Athosian children really needed counselling, and there were so many of them she'd had to get toys for them to play with as they waited). 'Steve' didn't reply. He was busy watching a kid playing with a giant teddybear.

"Is that object supposed to resemble an animal?" he asked, curiously.

"Yeah, it's supposed to be a bear. You know... big animal, big teeth and claws..."

"It is not a herbivore," the Wraith pointed out.

"No," John muttered, a bored look on his face.

"Am I right in asuming that if the animal were real, it would have devoured the child?" 'Steve' inquired.

"Yeah, probably. But it's not real..."

"But is it not unwise to teach your offspring to play with such animals?" the warrior mused, cocking an eye brow in his characteristic manner.

"It's just a toy!" The Colonel scoffed, rolling his eyes. The silver haired warrior just looked at him.

"It's not going to eat him!" John exclaimed, exasperated. In the same, patient voice he would have used when explaining it to a clinically insane individual - or perhaps a very stupid person – he continued: "It is an artificial object with no teeth whatsoever, so how could it eat a kid?"

"It is a toy resembling a predator," his Companion pointed out. "You would not make a toy in my image and give it to a child, would you?"he grinned, a malicious glimpse in his golden eyes. Sheppard opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. This was just too disturbing! In his mind, he saw a small, dark-haired boy cuddling with a large, stuffed wraith, filled with old socks. Shivering, he cast a quick look around the room so as to think of something else. The child was still playing with the teddybear, now trying – and failing – to get another kid to take off her green dress so that he could dress his stuffed friend in it. The little girl's protests were rather loud. John couldn't blame her. The bear would look hideous in green, he thought, smiling to himself. The kids were the only ones in the waiting room except himself – and 'Steve'. At first they had looked at him rather strangely, obviously wondering why he was talking to himself. But after a while they seemed to decide that he wasn't so interesting after all, and went back to playing with their toys. This suited him just fine. Maybe they thought he was talking to his pretend friend? Or maybe they just brushed him off as crazy. John sighed and tried to stretch in his chair. He had almost gotten used to the sensation of the wraith's touch now, and he only winced a little as the alien's skin lightly brushed his insides. The Wraith, on the other hand, had never seemed to care about that particular part. Sheppard wasn't so sure he himself would have been able to stand it if his own arm was stuck through a wraith's body. "No," he thought to himself, "I'd rather cut off my arm than remain stuck like this...But perhaps ghosts can't do that".

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His musings were cut short as the voice of Dr Heightmeyer soared through the speaker on the wall.

"Colonel John Sheppard? You may enter now." With a quick glance at his 'siamese twin', said Colonel rose from his chair, dragging the warrior with him. The latter was leering again.


	6. Chapter 6

A Strange Predicament, chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own SGA, no matter how much I'd like to… don't sue me!

Hey again! This chapter has been almost completely rewritten. I'm sorry if it's confusing, but there were some things I just had to change!:)

Aidan, thanks a lot for your review! I've considered what you said, and made some changes that I felt were necessary. The discussion about Wraith sexual habits I'll save for a later chapter...heh heh!:D If you have the time, please tell me what you think about the changes!

Dr Heightmeyer will have a rather odd role to play in this fic... I hope her fans won't be too offended!;)

Thanks for the reviews!

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"Good afternoon, John, please have a seat." Kate Heightmeyer, Atlantis' psychiatrist, made a gesture towards a comfortable-looking chair in front of her. The Colonel managed a smile towards her and turned, using his crutch to support him as he attempted to sit down. His alien 'friend' immediatedly got in the way, grabbing the chair by the elbow-rest and sitting down on it before Sheppard could stop him. John gaped at the audacity of his opponent. This was just plain evil! Then he started looking for another chair. The only other one there was had already been occupied by the psychiatrist.

"Is anything the matter, John?" said the doctor, a hint of concern in her voice.

"Yeah! Yeah... the Wraith took my chair," he explained, his tone even. The woman looked at him thoughtfully.

"What I hear you saying is that a wraith took your chair, is that correct?" she asked, her face motionless.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. And no, I'm not crazy!" her patient stated. The aforementioned Wraith grinned at him, and with his free indexfinger he made a circling gesture at his temple. John glared murderously at him. His leg ached.

"Would you mind telling me a little about this wraith?" the doctor suggested, crossing her legs and picking up a notepad and a pencil from the small, brown table next to her.

"You want me to tell you more about him?" asked Sheppard, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, al right! He's a big, stupid bug who used to feed off people, only now he's a sadistic ghost with a severe superiority complex and – oh! His hand is stuck to my chest! Anything else you'd like to know?"

Dr Heightmeyer just smiled at him, batting her eyelashes. He noted that the top four buttons on her shirt were unbottoned, leaving a clear view of her neck and accentuating her cleavage slightly. That was strange, he thought. Dr Heightmeyer wasn't exactly strict, but she always looked very professional. He had never seen her like this before. It was strangely unnerving.

Needless to say, his alien 'friend' appeared very interested in whatever he could see of her chest. He slowly clenched his free hand into a fist and opened it again, spreading his talons in a rather suggestive manner. How he wished that he could feed right now...

"Is there anything else you would like to tell me, John?" the doctor asked gently, resting her right elbow unto the arm rest. She was clearly completely oblivious to the anguish she was causing a certain silverhaired alien.

" I don't know, _Kate,_ perhaps you'd like to know that both Carson and Teyla can actually hear him, and Teyla _sees_ him as well!... Well, maybe just parts of him... but what the Hell..."

The doctor watched him carefully, patience – and something else that he couldn't indentify -practically radiating from her. John couldn't stand even looking at the woman, her attitude annoyed him so. He turned his stare to the Wraith instead. Even that oversized insect was more pleasant to look at right now. Not that he looked that bad, once you got used to it... that Fu Manchu beard was actually quite fetching... hey! Where did that thought come from?! Growling, Sheppard attempted to pull his adversary out of the chair. If anyone was going to sit in it, then it should be him, John – he was the one that was hurt, damnit! And if he didn't get to sit down, then perhaps he could at least lure his enemy to say something – maybe the psychiatrist would be able to hear him? Of course, the Wraith warrior did not seem keen to cooperate at all. He just got a firmer hold of the arm-rest and smirked gloatingly up at the man, scornfully watching him through lowered eyelids. Kate looked on as Sheppard seemed to wrestle with somebody invisible, standing on only one leg and hissing furiously. The crutch had fallen to the floor. "I don't get paid enough for this," she thought, despairingly. "But he does have a gorgeous butt..."

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"So, why don't you tell me a little about your everyday life, John? How have you been feeling lately?" the doctor asked, a curious note in her voice. Her patient, sitting on the brown wooden chair she had gotten for him when she decided she'd had enough of his odd behaviour, didn't reply. His dark eyes were watching her warily, but his lips were shut tight. The other, in her eyes empty, chair was standing next to his and he was leaning slightly towards it, as if he didn't want to be separated from it. For a while, nobody spoke. Kate was hoping that maybe the Colonel ("I bet he works out!" she said to herself. "He's almost as cute as Rodney...") would be prepared to talk once he had calmed down a bit more, and Sheppard just didn't know what to say. If he talked more about 'Steve', she would most cetainly think him a lunatic. If he didn't, she'd be snooping into his private life instead – and all that in front of that 'siamese twin' of his. He didn't like either option much.

'Steve' was having the time of his life – er, death. This was a better revenge than he could ever have made up! The Goddess seemed to be smiling to him. With his lips drawn in a satisfied leer, he leaned back in his chair – thus forcing the human to bend slightly forward. He noticed that the female doctor cast a rather odd look at her patient, and the Wraith smirked to himself. This was perfect!

"Have you been under a lot of stress lately?" Dr Heightmeyer leaned forward a little, her eyes filled to the brim with sympathy.

"No. Not unless you count being physically attached to a wraith ghost as stressful," John replied, testily.

"Now, John... Have you considered the possibility that maybe this wraith, although real to you, may not actually exist?"

"No!" the Colonel snapped, irritably. " I haven't. You know why?"

"No, why?"

"Because every fucking time he moves, I can feel it! I can't even take a leak without dragging him along! Besides, if he weren't real, nobody else would be able to hear or see him – but both Teyla and Carson have..."

"Yes, John, so I've heard. But they may not be experiencing the same phenomenon you are-"

"Oh, they are, al right! When that... yellow-eyed monster" - he pointed at his adversary, who gave him a toothy smile – "speaks, they both hear him saying exactly what I hear him saying!"

The doctor just watched him, a frown on her face. The darkhaired man sighed.

"Have you talked to them yet?" he asked her, his voice almost pleading.

"No, John, I haven't had the time yet."

"But you are going to?" he sounded nearly hopeful now.

"That's not something I can comment right now. And in any case, at this particular moment I am focusing on you – not on Teyla Emmagan, or Doctor Beckett. Just you..." her voice trailed off.

"Great..." her involuntary patient growled. He shot a glance at his silverhaired enemy, only to find the latter watching him with an unpleasantly satisfied look on his green face. Sheppard scowled and turned his attention back to Dr Kate Heightmeyer. She might think him nuts, but at least she was not enjoying making him miserable. Of course, he'd never admit how bad he was feeling – Hell, he wasn't going to give that ... big, green cockroach the pleasure! No way! A small, obstinate smile made it's way across his features as he looked at the good doctor, who was beginning to look genuinely worried.

"Have you thought of the possibility that perhaps this wraith is a manifestation of something, maybe a problem, in your life?" she tried. Sheppard glared at her, while 'Steve's face twisted in a wide grin.

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"All I am saying, John, is that ever since you came to Atlantis you have been under a great deal of pressure. It's been one thing after the other..." Dr Heightmeyer tried – and completely failed – to calm her patient, who was definitely starting to get agitated.

"And what's that to do with my sex life?!" Sheppard snapped, trying very hard not to look at his Favourite Enemy who was practically shaking with inaudible laughter.

"You have always lead a sexually active life, but lately you have not had the opportunity to have... intercourse, due to your heavy workload. That leaves sexual frustration a plausible problem-"

The Colonel gaped at her, unable to believe that she could actually be coming up with such a stupid diagnosis.

" I – am – not – sexually - frustrated," he stated slowly, as if speaking to somebody incredibly dumb.

"I realise this may sound a little strange to you, but all this tension combined with not having a proper outlet may very well lead to mental instability and even to hallucinations in the long run..."

"What do you mean I have no outlet?! My life is full of friggin' outlets!" Sheppard cried.

"I am not certain about that," the psychiatrist replied. "I would, however, be happy to assist you in any way possible..." she blushed a little, crossing her legs while carefully rearrangeing her skirt at the same time. The Colonel gazed at her. "This is not happening," he thought to himself.

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"Didn't I warn you that they would think you crazy?" the whitehaired alien gloated as John limped over to his bed and managed to sit down on it.

"Shut up, you!" Sheppard snarled, grabbing a pillow and hitting the Wraith over the head with it. 'Steve' watched him with amused interest.

"Are you attempting to kill me with that stuffed object?" he asked, cocking his left eyebrow. "For I seriously doubt that it will succeed, seeing as I am already dead" he continued in an ironic matter-of-fact-voice. His involuntary companion scowled and threw the pillow at the door instead. This had to be his worst day ever! Dr Heightmeyer had not made a final decision about how he should be treated yet, but it was obvious that she had already made up her mind about what was wrong with him. "Just how the fucking Hell did she get her doctor's degree?" he thought. "Who picked her for Atlantis?!" It had taken all of John's diplomatic abiblities just for him to get out of her office without being... well, violated was a strong word, but that was pretty much how he felt! He once again glared at the greenskinned creature beside him, almost as if to blame him. The other male met his gaze without flinching.

"The female you spoke to, that Dr Heightmeyer... she had some very interesting ideas," the Wraith observed. John rolled his eyes and tried to ignore him. But 'Steve' had never been one to give up easily, and he wasn't going to begin doing it now.

"What did she say I was...?" he mused. "A manifestation of... was it not something to the effect of 'the development of sexual frustration portrayed as an enemy that has forcibly attached itself to you'? Poor human", he added, an expression of pretend-sympathy on his features, "I had no idea you had such ... issues with your sexuality. Perhaps you should try to get that Heightmeyer female to mate with you. She certainly seemed eager-"

"You're such a perverted little bug, aren't you?" the human replied, rolling his eyes in contempt. "Just because you wraith guys don't get to fuck more than about once every century..."

"Actually, most of us never get to 'fuck', as you put it, there only being one or two females in every hive." The ghost replied with a smirk.

"That's a bit harsh..." Sheppard cocked his eyebrows.

"Actually, it's ideal. You humans are so weak, always letting your instincts get the better of you..." The Wraith peered at him through lowered eyelids, the perfect image of amused contempt.

"Hey! Look who's talking!" the Colonel scoffed. "You're the ones who eat people!"

"In order to survive, yes," his ghostly companion replied. "But, unlike you lowly creatures, we are not slaves to our lusts," he continued, sneering.

"Yeah, right... you just hunt sentient beings and keep them in suspended animation for a few hundred years, before you torture them to death... that makes you _sooo_ much better than us," Sheppard snorted. This had been a long, eventful day and he just wanted to go to bed and sleep. Not for very long, just for a week or so. The Wraith warrior, however, did not seem tired at all. For the time being he was watching his human 'companion' with a mildly amused expression on his features.

"I have heard that most humans eat the meat of animals. How do you know that they are not sentient?" he asked, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. John rolled his eyes.

"Who, the animals? For one thing, they don't talk," he grunted as he tried to lie down on his left side without dragging 'Steve' with him. He most certainly didn't want company in his bed if there was a way to avoid it! Although, he had to admit he could do worse as bed-partners went... Hey! What the Hell was he thinking?!

"I see..." The alien was clearly not impressed by the Colonel's reasoning skills. The latter found himself oddly displeased with the Wraith's sceptical answer. He wasn't sure why.

"Look, _Steve_, there's no reason why we should think that animals are sentient," he snapped.

"Really?" The Wraith didn't sound convinced.

"Yeah, really. And now, if you don't mind," he added, sarcastically, "I'm going to get some rest."

"You are, human?" the alien warrior smirked. John noticed there was an odd spark in his yellow, reptile eyes.

"Yeah, you'd better not disturb me or I will be very, _very _cranky."

'Steve' grinned.


	7. Chapter 7

A Strange Predicament chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own squat. Or at least nothing to do with SG:A.:)

A/N: Hey, guys, thanks a lot for the reviews! They make me happy!:D

A special, big thanks to Aidan, who beta-read this chapter and helped me make it better!:)

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"Stop pulling my blanket, you big, green ...martian!" John Sheppard snarled as he grabbed the blue quilt and snatched it from his 'bed mate'. The latter put on an innocent face.

"Why would I want your blanket, human? I do not get cold," he pointed out.

"If you're not tugging at it, then who is?" the aforementioned human snapped, glaring at the other male. An evil grin spread across the face of his opponent.

"Perhaps you are imagining things," 'Steve' suggested, inspecting the long, sharp talons of his free hand.

"Hah hah, very funny," John grumbled, "Maybe you and Dr Heightmeyer should get together some time, you seem to have a lot in common."

The Wraith leered.

"Maybe I shall visit her, once I am rid of you, Sheppard," he suggested. John instantly realised his mistake.

"No, you're not," he said, sharply. "'Cause when I'm rid of you, you won't be able to go anywhere, or do anything."

The alien warrior smirked.

"You keep telling yourself that, human," he replied, baring exquisitely sharp teeth from behind his thin, pale lips. The Lt Colonel gave a scornful snort and started trying to wrap the blanket around his waist. It failed, of course, due to the little problem of a Wraith Hand being jammed straight through his torso. 'Steve' wasn't being exactly helpful, either. The latter was eyeing John with a smug expression on his face, his golden eyes reduced to slits. His long, silvery hair seemed to glow slightly in the dim light from the window. An image of spun moonlight somehow invaded Sheppard's mind as he looked at the creature who sat next to him on the bed. It's hair looked soft, almost inviting... Hey! What was going on with him lately?! Did he actually contemplate patting a Wraith on the head??? "Maybe I am going nuts," the Colonel thought, shivering slightly. "But Rodney will be feasting on oranges before I let anyone know!" John decided it would be better to focus on something else for a bit, say... getting as comfy as possible on his bed, despite his... er, predicament. After a quick look around, he soon found that his pillow was lying on the floor several yards away. Oh, yeah. He'd thrown it at the door earlier, when he was pissed at 'Steve'. "Crap!" he grunted, irritably. John did not feel like getting up, dragging the wraith with him across half the room and back again, just for a pillow.

"Give me that," he muttered instead, pointing at a big, squishy cushion that lay behind the alien's back.

"Where are your manners, human?" His ghostly 'friend' replied, cocking his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Oh, shut up, wraith!" Sheppard snapped. The Wraith in question sneered and opened his mouth as if to say something, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. The leather-clad alien's eyes quickly darted to the door, and his mouth drew up in an expectant grin. John had the impression his reluctant companion liked it when there were other people around. Probably because it gave him a chance to make the Colonel look like a complete dork... This thought did nothing to improve Sheppard's already foul mood.

"WHAT?!" he yelled, tugging the quilt so it would at least cover his legs.

"It's just me - Teyla," a soft voice called from the other side of the door. "Are you... er, dressed?"

'Steve''s smile became broader when hearing her question. John ignored him and replied:

"Yeah, sort of. What do you want?"

"Can I come in?" The Athosian sounded slightly hesitant, he noted. Perhaps she was afraid that she would, once again, get to see a little too much of his unclad form... The corners of Sheppard's mouth twisted slightly as he exchanged a quick glance with 'Steve' and – for the first time – felt like he could share this creature's amusement. Poor Teyla, he thought. He wasn't wearing any trousers (getting them off had been a challange indeed, especially as 'Steve the Friendly Ghost' kept pulling at his belt with his long claws. The fact that his aching leg was wrapped in bandages and kept getting in the way hadn't helped either), and she didn't deserve having to see him without proper clothing again...

"I think you'd better not," he answered her - and heard what could be taken as a sigh of relief from the woman.

"Well, I just wanted to check on you. How's your leg? Does it hurt?" she asked, her voice concerned. The Colonel snorted to himself. Sure, his leg hurt – but he'd gladly put up with anything if he could just get rid of that friggin' Wraith!

"I'll live," he commented, dryly.

"I hope you'll be telling Carson if you need painkillers, John. Pride is one thing, stupidity another." Her voice had a stern quality to it now, almost as though she were scolding a child. Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother," he muttered to himself. The alien warrior smirked, but said nothing.

"How'd it go at Dr Heightmeyer's?" Teyla asked. One of the Athosian children, who had been playing in Kate's waitingroom as John came out again, had informed her that the man did not seem...er, happy when he left the psychiatrist's office. That's not how the kid put it, of course. If she was not mistaken, his exact words had been: "Colonel Sheppard looked sick. I thought he was gonna barf in a flower pot!", but this particular child was prone to exaggerations and she preferred to make her own conclusions. For a moment, there was complete silence. She couldn't hear any sound at all from her friend's room. And then, finally, Sheppard replied in an icy tone:

"I don't want to talk about that. Ever."

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A rather timid knock on the door woke the Lt Colonel later that evening. He was a light sleeper now-a-days, and it didn't taken him long to cough up a somewhat alert response:

"Who is it?"

"It's just me again, John," came Teyla's voice, slightly muffled by the door. "Me and Rodney, and some of the others, are going to watch a... I think they called it a 'movie'. I was wondering if you'd like to accompany us?"

So, she was back again. Apparently his earlier grumpiness hadn't scared her off permanently, Sheppard mused. His alarm clock told him that he'd been sleeping for about two hours. The Wraith warrior was stretched out next to him, it's white hair a complete mess. It hadn't been easy for John to convince the vengeful spirit to lie still and not disturb him, but after a while 'Steve' got bored and calmed down. The Colonel wasn't sure whether ghosts did actually sleep or not, but it did certainly look as though the alien had taken a nap. The creature's eyes were half closed and he moved unusually slowly as he sat up, almost pulling 'his' human with him in the process.

"What film is it?" John called, ruffling his dark hair absentmindedly and giving a big yawn.

"I'm afraid I don't remember the name of it, John." The Athosian woman told him.

"Oh..." Her friend thought about this for a moment. Of course he liked watching movies, who didn't? And it would hopefully take his mind of things. Plus, the more time he spent with the others – Teyla and Carson in particular - the more of a chance he had to make 'Steve' reveal himself to them. He could, hopefully, sleep more later. There was, however, a little problem he had to deal with first...

"Ok, where are you gonna be?" he called, darting a glance at his 'pet ghost'.

"Rodney's room," the woman informed him.

"Al right. Just give me ten minutes and I'll be there!"

"You already did this twice today!" The Wraith warrior was staring at him in disbelief as John lifted the lid of the toilet.

"Well, it's a little different this time... gotta take a dump."

"Take a what?!"

Sheppard rolled his eyes.

"I – have – to – shit," he explained slowly, as to a child. His green 'friend' gave him a look of pure disgust.

"Filthy human!" he hissed, trying to turn away from said individual.

"Oh, shut your mouth and hand me that roll over there," John snapped, pointing at the roll of toilet tissue that stood by the sink.

The whole toilet procedure went relatively smooth – thank God for that! 'Steve' kept scowling and wrinkling up his nose at the smell, but he didn't try to prevent John from going about his business. After that, however, Sheppard needed to put his trousers on, and that's when 'Steve' decided to be difficult. John slowly pulled the black army pants up over his knees, taking care not to touch his injured leg more than absolutely necessary. So far, so good. And then he had to get up on his feet – well, foot, actually – in order to pull them all the way up. As he stood there, balancing on one leg, the Wraith - smiling toothily – poked him with his free arm so that he fell onto the floor with a loud _thud_. His enemy, on the other hand, somehow managed to remain standing and was clearly enjoying this moment immensly. Once the Colonel finally had gotten his trousers on, he realised he needed a clean t-shirt. Changing shirts didn't turn out to be any easier than putting on pants, for the Wraith spirit amused himself further by purposely getting in the way. He was being absolutely impossible.

"If you weren't already dead, I'd fucking kill you!" John snarled as he fought to tug the clean, black t-shirt over his head. And that's when it hit him like a ton of bricks: he might be able to get dressed despite having a cranky Wraith stuck with him, but just how the Hell was he going to hobble all the way to Rodney's room on crutches, while dragging 'Steve' with him?! "This is _sooo _unfair," he mentally groaned.

"Why should I go anywhere with you, human?" The Wraith sneered, tossing back his long, silvery hair with the greenish-white talons of his free hand. His dark-haired opponent thought about this for a moment. If he didn't want the trouble of forcibly pulling the other male with him, the only other option was to persuade 'Steve' to come willingly. And the only way to reach that goal might be to convince the alien that it was in his best interest to come along. But how was he going to do that? Sheppard had never heard of a film-loving Wraith. Sighing, he gave the only reason he could come up with:

"Do you really want to be stuck with me in this room all night?"

That seemed to hit home. The fair-haired warrior's snide expression changed slightly and he tilted his head a little to the side with a thoughtful look in his eyes, as if he were considering what had just been said.

"That is a fair point," he slowly admitted.

"Yeah. And there will be other people there, you know. You like that, don't you?" John said, putting on an innocent face. His adversary gave him a scornful glance.

"Don't push it, human."

A couple of minutes later they were slowly approaching Rodney's quarters, 'Steve' moving backwards one step at a time while Sheppard hopped along on his crutches. Well, he didn't exactly 'hop', his leg hurt just a bit too much for that. But they were getting somewhere, albeit with the speed of a tired slug. Once in the mood for cooperation, the ghost turned out to be very patient indeed. He didn't scowl or complain once - if one doesn't count that single time when the Colonel tripped over something and nearly fell on top of him. That seemed to upset the Wraith a little. But apart from that his behaviour was really exemplary, John noted. And after all, he didn't like it when people fell on him either... After about fifteen minutes he could see his geeky scientist friend's door. It was wide open and a smell of popcorn filled the corridor.

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"What took you so long?!" Dr Rodney McKay was glaring at him accusingly.

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps it's the fact that I had to walk all the way here on _crutches_, with a wraith ghost attached to me?" John hinted, sarcastically. Rodney paled a little.

"A wraith? Where?!" The little man was clearly shaken. This seemed to please 'Steve', who grinned wickedly.

"Never mind," the Colonel grunted, casting a _behave-yourself-or-else-_glare at his ghostly companion.

"But you said..." McKay began, in a whiny tone.

"I said 'never mind'!" Sheppard snapped.

"Fine! Fine... Forget that I said anything..." The scientist quickly turned away and started checking that everything was where it should be for his Big Movie Night. Every now and then he shot a quick glance at his dark-haired pal, worry evident in his eyes. John did his best to ignore it. He didn't need to see the look in Rodney's eyes to know that the latter thought he was insane. Instead, he started looking for Carson and Teyla. However, this night seemed to have been orchestrated by some divine enemy of his, for despite all the trouble he'd gone through to get here it turned out that neither Carson, nor Teyla, were going to be present. Carson had declined due to his workload – but it was obvious to everyone that it had something to do with the choice of film for the evening. (Apparently, he wasn't a big fan of Austin Powers.) Teyla had been all set to watch the movie and was just about to enter McKay's room with a big bowl of snacks in her hands, when she got an urgent request from one of the Athosians. Her duty to her people took precedence over the movie, no matter how curious she was to see it.

John did his best not to show how disappointed he was – he really didn't want to give 'Steve' another opportunity to gloat. Therefore, he turned his attention to the people that were actually there instead. He counted to three, except for himself, Rodney and a certain Wraith. The Colonel didn't know any of them very well, but he was pretty certain they were all scientists.

"Is everyone ready?" McKay called out, plucking a large remote out of his jeans pocket.

"Yeah, let's get started already!" a small-nosed woman replied, impatiently. The Colonel found himself a seat on a matress up against the wall, and succeeded in pulling 'Steve' down in a sitting position next to him. The latter's features were drawn in a displeased scowl, but the human male pointedly ignored him; something that became considerably harder when the alien ghost's hair somehow got in his mouth. Once Sheppard managed to spit it out again, the film had already started and a small guy, featured by a velvet costume and extremely bad teeth, was being chased by girls in miniskirts. John's green 'companion' was staring at the screen with a look of utter amazement on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own SGA.

A/N: Hi again, sorry it's been so long! Thank you so much for the reviews, and a special thanks to Aidan – my Beta.:D (I look forward to brainstorming with you on the next chapter!:))

A Strange Predicament, Chapter 8

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It was not a very pleasant evening for 'Steve' the Wraith. When the movie began, he sat transfixed, staring at the TV screen, his golden reptile eyes wide with shock and amazement. He had never, ever before seen such a badly dressed male– not on any planet he had been to. This _Austin Powers_ individual must be colour blind, he mused. And all that lace...?! This man had no honour! And what had he done to his hair? Females, however, seemed to find him irresistible. The alien warrior could not understand why, and as the film carried on, he became more and more confused. The human not only wore hideous clothes and sniggered far too much – he also kept making sexual suggestions to any female he encountered. 'Steve' shivered as he contemplated the horrible destiny of any male Wraith who dared act that way around his Queen... It didn't matter how attractive she was; no Wraith in his right mind would ever walk up to her and say "Shall we shag now, or shall we shag later?". Not that she would know the _word_ 'shag', but that didn't mean she wouldn't get the idea...

While the ghost was trying his best to understand Human Sexuality as he saw it portrayed in "Austin Powers", John was pondering the idea that it should be possible for others aside from Teyla and Carson to hear – or even see – his companion. However, as he looked around the small room, he reluctantly had to admit that, so far, no one but McKay had reacted to the ghost's presence– and the latter clearly couldn't see 'Steve'. He just thought Sheppard was in dire need of a strait jacket. Sighing to himself, the Colonel decided to try to provoke the alien in an attempt to make him talk. Of course, due to the film, the noise level in McKay's quarters was pretty high. Yet, a furious, growling Wraith would be a lot easier to hear than a quiet, perplexed one, he mused as he glanced at the warrior. The silver-haired creature's face was unusually expressive this evening. At the moment, he was gazing in utter disgust at Austin Power's private airplane – a vehicle painted in the most mind-boggling shades of pink, orange, yellow and green Sheppard had ever seen. John almost felt sorry for 'Steve'. All those colours must be a shock to the eyes of a being that preferred to live in the dark of a large hive ship... Oh, well. If he was going to make the alien talk, he might as well do it now, while the latter was slightly off balance.

"You know, your teeth are almost as bad as that Austin-guy's," he pointed out, conversationally. "Is that a common trait for all Wraith?"

The warrior did not rise to the bait. He simply turned his cat-like eyes towards the human for a second, baring his fangs in a predatory grin, and then returned his attention to the TV screen. Ok, that didn't work then... Sheppard made a new, futile attempt to engage his reluctant companion in conversation.

"You saw that animal Dr Evil was holding? That's a cat," he whispered into the alien's left ear, the latter's silvery hair almost brushing his lips. The smell of it was oddly intoxicating, John noted. It was rich and warm like a rain forest while at the same time cool and... He shoved those thoughts far back in his mind, took a steadying breath and continued to irritate his ghostly 'friend':

"Looks a bit like you, don't you think?" he continued his cat-analogy. "All hairy and cuddly, with cute little fangs and claws..." By now, John was certain he'd gotten the warrior's attention. What Wraith would want to be compared to a small, fluffy animal? But he had underestimated the Wraith's self control. The latter made a threatening growl far back in his throat, but it wasn't loud enough for anyone besides Sheppard to hear. In fact, he too had trouble hearing it. _How frustrating is this? _The human thought, irritably. _He never shuts up when I want him to, but now he won't say a word! Damn oversized beetle..._ Sheppard decided to try again. A wicked smile crossed his face as he considered what to say next.

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While John's childish behaviour was annoying, 'Steve' had other things on his mind for the moment. He was still busy deciphering the process of Human Mating Rituals, and no matter how he turned it around in his mind it simply did not add up. Two plus two was suddenly not four, but five – and there were quite possibly a few decimals as well... By the time Mr Powers got into a hot tub with a woman named Miss Fagina and farted loudly, the Wraith had pretty much had his fill of Strange Human Behaviour for one evening. He had given up trying to understand what he saw, and just let it wash over him. It was always good to get to know your enemy, but apparently said enemies were a lot more complicated and strange than he'd ever imagined. They actually seemed to find this 'movie'-thing entertaining! Some of the people in this room were laughing very loudly whenever they saw or heard something they particularly liked, and since his hearing was a lot better than most humans', this did not please him at all. Doctor Evil, an insane, hairless creature who kept sucking his finger, had been greeted with loud cheering. The Fembots, a group of what appeared to be female Replicators with large guns hidden in their milk glands, were saluted with a loud "Wooohooo!" from a male human right in front of the screen... 'Steve' snorted to himself. This was getting more and more ridiculous... and what was that horrible, silvery thing the Austin-person was wearing?! 'Steve' stared in horror.

"That silver costume might look good on you..." Sheppard's low, malicious voice cut through the cacophony of sounds pouring from the TV speakers, almost as if he had read the alien's mind. "It would go well with your hair..."

The ghost made a noise that almost sounded like a muffled squeak. John leered and opened his mouth to add a little spice to the insult when suddenly – in one, swift movement - the Wraith pressed him against the wall with his free hand, it's sharp talons almost tearing the man's shirt. 'Steve' was staring straight into his eyes, cold anger written all over his pale, greenish features.

"I strongly advise you to be quiet now, human. I may not be able to feed off you, but I can still make your life miserable," the fair-haired warrior hissed, leaning forwards so that his nose almost touched the human's. Sheppard found himself oddly affected by the sudden closeness, and that really disturbed him. In order to hide his emotions, he took on a look of amused contempt and sneered at his adversary.

"You think my life can get any worse than this?" he replied in a low voice, sarcasm evident in every word. The alien smiled coolly.

"Do you really wish to find out?" He said, quietly. John was going to retort when his eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of Rodney over the leather-clad creature's shoulder. The little scientist was staring at him, an odd look on his pale face. Apparently, he was the only one who had actually noticed what just happened, for nobody else gave John as much as a glance. It suddenly dawned on the Colonel just how this must look from the point of view of somebody who couldn't see his 'pet Wraith', and he forced a smile to his lips and waved at McKay – who didn't smile or wave back. At that moment, an idea hit John over the head, trickled down his spine and seemed to absorb his entire being. Maybe Rodney could help them… he was very smart indeed… yes. John just had to persuade his 'companion' to cooperate; to help convincing McKay that 'Steve' existed. Now, why did that thought leave an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach?

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"You are suggesting a what?" The Wraith sounded skeptic. John shrugged – and immediately wished he hadn't. Every now and then, he still forgot that moving his shoulders usually resulted in a rather unpleasant sensation in his chest area, courtesy of 'Steve the Friendly Ghost'... Suppressing a shiver, he explained:

"I just think we should team up and try to find a way out of this... er, predicament together. I mean, you don't exactly love me and I'm not crazy about you either, so... brainstorming's a way to... you know, come up with solutions."

The silver-haired ghost watched him for a moment, his features blank. They were back in Sheppard's bedroom, after a long, boring and extremely slow walk. 'Steve', who had seemed rather irritable after John's suggestions about his wardrobe, had soon calmed down and began treating his companion to an icy silence instead. Since John didn't want to antagonize him further, he'd kept his mouth shut while he... er, they hobbled all the way to his quarters. Instead, he used that time to form a strategy that would make the Wraith warrior willing to prove his presence to McKay. The moment they sat down on the dark haired man's bed – the only decent sitting area in his room - Lt Colonel John Sheppard started working his magic. Only, so far it didn't seem to be working very well...

"I am assuming that 'brains storming' is an idiomatic expression," the alien commented, dryly. The image of two brains floating around among the clouds of a planet, throwing lightning rods at each other, invaded John's mind and he found it a little hard to remain serious.

"Yeah. It is."

"And how is it done?" The alien asked, with an amused snort.

"Er… technically it means we both say whatever pops up in our minds," the Colonel explained. This was a rather fuzzy description – something that he found out soon enough.

"Very well." His 'Siamese twin' looked him up and down for a moment, and then began:

"Your breath smells like diseased fish, your haircut is not worthy of a warrior and you have odd and distasteful habits, Human."

Sheppard stared at him, his face completely blank.

"Well… thanks for pointing that out," he replied, venomously. "But I don't see how it's going to help us get… unstuck."

The Wraith cocked his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"That was not the purpose of my comments. You informed me that we were going to say whatever 'popped up in our minds', human." The alien stated, his voice terribly calm and sweet. John sighed to himself. _Payback's a bitch_, he thought, dourly. His opponent seemed to thoroughly enjoy the situation. A smirk appeared to be glued unto his white-greenish face. Sheppard felt like rubbing it off with his fist, but realised that would be somewhat counterproductive. A cranky Wraith meant a world of problems, and he really needed his ghostly 'pal' to cooperate.

"Look," John said, as patiently as he could, "we need to work together on this, ok? Or do you wanna be stuck with me forever?"

His question was answered by a snarl of the _shut-up-or-I'll-eat-your-intestines_-variety.

"I'll take that as a no," the Colonel deadpanned.

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"You believe that _McKay_ individual could help us?" 'Steve's upper lip curved and his nose wrinkled up as though he were sensing a foul smell.

"Well, he's a bit geeky, but he's smart," Sheppard insisted. They had been toying with different ideas for the better part of an hour, not really getting anywhere. The Wraith warrior had suggested, in a rather unpleasant tone, that he should suffocate Sheppard with one of the pillows that lay on the bed, and then cut himself loose, using a scalpel from the Infirmary. John politely informed the alien where he could shove that scalpel. Instead, he made the suggestion that he should get a vacuum cleaner and use it to suck 'Steve' up, Ghost Buster Style. That idea was quickly abandoned as the silver-haired creature just looked at him, his face motionless, and asked:

"What is a vacuum cleaner?" After that, the discussion lost some of its energy, and John had to admit he was starting to feel bored. 'Steve' did not appear exactly thrilled, either.

"And what can that Rodney-person do to help us?" The Wraith lazily inspected the long talons of his free hand and grinned as he saw that his claws were as sharp as ever. Too bad he wasn't getting more opportunities to use them...

"Well, he may be able to find out what the Hell happened to us," the Colonel replied, rather irritably. The alien's negative attitude was beginning to really get to him.

"What makes you think he will believe you, if you tell him about our... little problem?" The Wraith inquired, cocking his eyebrows slightly. "The common opinion among your friends is that you are slightly - what do you humans call it? 'Off the bend'?" A wicked smile crept over the face of Sheppard's opponent and made itself at home. John scoffed.

"Yeah, well... We're not gonna get anywhere on our own, are we? If we work together, we can make him understand. You know... Prove to him that you exist by... poking him, or whatever. Messing with his stuff..." John's voice trailed off. He was beginning to wonder if this was such a bright idea, after all. What if 'Steve' got carried away and decided to prove his existence by ... say, trying to feed on Rodney? The last thing they needed was 'Steve' getting his other hand jammed through McKay's... Hey! No need to get panicky here! The Colonel shot a glance at the alien creature, who looked right back at him with some interest.

"Perhaps we could... _persuade_ him to work with us." The Wraith quietly admitted. His soft voice sent shivers down Sheppard's spine, caressed it with icy fingers and made his toes curl up. He coughed.

"Hrm! Yeah... I know we can, especially if we scare him a bit." John fixed his opponent with cold steel in his eyes. "But if you try to hurt him, one way or the other..."

"That would be counterproductive, don't you think, Sheppard?" The alien's yellow eyes glittered with amusement. "After all, how can he help us if he is dead?"


	9. Chapter 9

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A Strange Predicament, chapter 9

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It soon became obvious to the Colonel that once 'Steve' had gotten an idea into that big, fat, pale head of his, he was not one for procrastinating.

"Look, it's late and some of us actually need to sleep to look this good, ok?" Sheppard pointed out in a somewhat sarcastic manner. His companion sneered and gave him a quick look over. The Alien's golden eyes took in dark, messy hair, two days worth of beard-stubble and a wrinkly, black shirt that had been in excellent shape only a few hours ago.

"You look quite horrible," he stated, sounding far too pleased with himself. John glared at his opponent.

"Gee, I'm touched by your concern!" he growled, rearranging one of the pillows so as to make himself more comfortable on the bed.

"Give me a few hours and I'll be fine, and then we can talk to Rodney. He's probably sleeping now, anyway."

The Wraith rolled his eyes.

"Humans," he muttered, contemptuously.

"Shut up, dung beetle," John replied, sleepily.

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At about 2.00 am the sloth named Sheppard realised he was probably not going to get any sleep tonight. 'Steve' seemed to have finally accepted the fact that humans need more rest than Wraith do – not to mention Wraith ghosts - and was unusually still. But there was simply too much going on in John's head right now. He closed his eyes and saw Rodney stagger away from him, a look of sheer terror on his face._ "A Wraith? Here?"_ the little scientist´s voice jumped a few octaves... Sheppard growled to himself and changed position slightly, accidentally shoving the fingers of his right hand into a strand of the Wraith's long, silky hair.

"What the Hell…" he muttered, tugging to get loose. The reptile-eyes of his ghostly bed-mate instantly opened and looked straight at him. The Wraith cocked his eyebrows, his facial expression the perfect image of polite amusement.

"Oops… Sorry about that..." John mumbled, trying his best to disentangle his fingers without having to actually touch the Alien's hair more than absolutely necessary.

"God!" he added, irritably. "Ever thought of using a conditioner?"

The green skinned creature next to him bared its teeth in a menacing grin.

"What," he sneered, amused contempt evident in every word, "is a conditioner?"

The Lt Colonel rolled his eyes, wishing he'd never said anything. He did not feel that he was the right person to explain the finer details of hairdressing to a Wraith. In fact, he didn't feel as though he were the right person to explain _anything _to a pale-skinned, silver-haired, leather-clad... thing… Irritably, the human male shut his eyes closed and tried to think of nothing in particular. That did not work. The moment he closed his eyes, an image of himself forcibly washing the ghost's hair and pouring a whole bottle of conditioner on top of his head invaded his mind and firmly sat down, making itself at home. That in itself was not so bad, of course. But then his brain began picturing just how nice it would feel to lather that silk-like hair, and then rinse it gently, possibly massaging the Alien's scalp in the process... Now, that was a... disturbing thought. Why did such weird things pop up in his mind lately? Sleep-deprivation, maybe? Sheppard groaned to himself, doing his best to banish all thoughts of green aliens, with or without hair. This was going to be a looong night...

Meanwhile, 'Steve' was busy thinking of ways to further annoy his… 'companion'. They were supposed to be allies now, of course, working together towards a common goal. But that didn't mean he was not allowed to have a little fun, did it? The warrior smirked to himself, feeling quite pleased despite the difficulties he was facing. It would not be too hard persuading Sheppard's human friend that he was real, and he would thoroughly enjoy messing with him!

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Doctor Rodney McKay, computer whiz and self-proclaimed genius, bent down over his bed to brush away a trail of pop corn and peanut peels from the mattress. Over all, this should have been a great night, he thought. His guests had seemed to enjoy the movie, the snacks were tasty enough, there was no fighting and – best of all – that annoying Czech, Zelenka, had been far too busy to come. Not that there was anything wrong with him, once you got to know him… he was actually quite bright. Not as bright as Rodney of course, but still rather smart. Oh, well… This would indeed have been a perfect evening – and Rodney rarely experienced a perfect evening with his friends – if it hadn't been for Sheppard's weird behaviour. What the Hell was wrong with him?!

"All that blabbering 'bout a Wraith… he must've been trying to give me a friggin' heart attack!" the Good Doctor muttered, crossly. "Honestly! A Wraith here!" he snorted, while taking off his T-shirt and kicking off his shoes, all in one, not-so-swift movement.

"Hm…" He sniffed the T-shirt, then wrinkled up his face in disgust. "Ew!" The offending shirt was quickly thrown into a corner, where dirty socks, sheets and jeans eagerly awaited the Pilgrimage to the Great Washing Machine.

"I need to get a new deodorant…" the man mumbled to himself, then started taking off his socks.

"Oh, dear God!" He visibly blanched, holding out the socks in front of him while pinching them between his right forefinger and thumb.

"I could probably take out Wraith with these! Hm…" Rodney tilted his head, thoughtfully. One of the things he didn't particularly like about his job, was the unfortunate tendency it had to involve all sorts of unpleasant aliens. Aliens that betrayed you or tried to torture you… but the worst kind was the one that kept sucking the life out of people. Damn rude, it was! Not to mention scary… McKay shivered. He'd prefer mutant lemons any day!

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Sheppard was not in a good mood right now. It was 2. 30 in the morning. He had not managed to get any sleep, and after a while he had realised it was probably better to get things done instead of twisting and turning on his bed. The fact that his 'bed mate' never seemed to want to turn in the same direction as he himself added to his discomfort. So, the Lt Colonel finally sat up, rubbing his eyes. 'Steve' growled impatiently.

"I thought you were going to sleep, human?" he said, testily.

"Yeah, well… There's too much going on, I can't relax. Let's just go find Rodney, ok?" As John started looking for his crutches (they seemed to have ended up under the bed), he happened to sniff his armpit, and made a grimace. "But first we need to clean ourselves," he stated firmly. 'Steve' stared at him, his face suddenly a mask of utter defiance.

"No showering!" he said, refusing to move one inch. John groaned.

"I need to do something, ok? I smell like something that died weeks ago!" he hissed. "Do you want to scare off McKay even before we've had a chance to talk to him?"

His ghostly 'friend' sneered.

"I am not going to shower with you," he replied, stubbornly.

"What, are you afraid of getting wet?" The Colonel snapped. He began trying to get off the bed, balancing on one leg while holding on to the small table by the bunk. The Wraith warrior did nothing to help him. If it didn't sound so silly, John would have said that the creature was sulking.

"I won't be able shower anyway, what with my leg, so you needn't worry." The dark-haired human stated, supporting himself on one of the crutches with his right hand and tugging at the Wraith's free arm with the other. The ghost hissed at him, showing off his sharp teeth in all their glory. John let go of his arm, and resorted to glaring instead. A feeling of déja vu entered his mind. Damn, was he going to have to spend the rest of his life squabbling with this over-sized insect?! Maybe the same thought occurred to the Wraith, for he suddenly got up and stood with his green face a mere two inches from Sheppard's.

"You will have to find an alternative method of cleaning yourself, for I am not getting into that shower-… thing again!" he snarled, threateningly. John sighed, exasperated.

"I was just getting to that!" he remarked, testily. "I thought I'd use the basin and just wash up!" John started hobbling towards the bathroom, the spirit finally cooperating.

"But you have got to be the most irritating, ugly green bug in this Universe!" John added. 'Steve' grinned.

br

Rodney McKay walked over to the window and looked out into the night. There was no sign of any moon, but the stars were quite beautiful. He sighed to himself, and took a quick look at his watch. It said 03.32 am, so it was definitely time to sleep. My, did he wish he hadn't had all that coffee earlier tonight! But, after all, what was Movie Night without coffee? He always had coffee... The doctor sighed, forcing himself to contemplate the one thing that was really bothering him: Sheppard's strange behaviour. Of course there were no Wraith here. John wasn't quite himself, right? Rumour had it he'd been acting strange all day. Rodney could well believe it, after what he'd seen and heard tonight! But still… the mere thought of one of those pale, life-sucking monsters made him want to hide under the bed and not come out for a century or so. No, he really did not want to think about this right now! Suppressing a shudder, he turned and took a good look at his bedroom. Sure, it was a bit messy now, but that would soon be taken care of. Once he'd vacuumed the floor and opened the window, the place would be tolerable again. But that would have to wait until morning, he decided and started taking off his pants, humming to himself. Hm, these boxers were kind of sexy! Too bad he had no girlfriend to show them to… Rodney started swinging his hips to the tune that had, mysteriously, gotten into his head earlier that evening.

"I´m too sexy for my shirt... Hum-dum-dum... so sexy that it hurts..." he sang, shaking his butt to the rhythm.

"Is this a bad time?" Sheppard´s ironic voice tore through the melody, making the little man jump with surprise.

"John!"

"Because if it is, I can always come back later," the Colonel pointed out. "Maybe when you've put on some clothes…?"

Now that 'Steve' had watched Austin Powers, he had some inkling as to what the ritual humans called 'dancing' was. Apparently it meant that a group of individuals began moving to the rhythm of the dreadful noise they called 'music', and sometimes the humans in question started taking off their clothes. Why they did that he had no idea, but he had a feeling it might have something to do with their becoming too hot and needing to cool down. It all seemed quite pointless to the Wraith. If they wanted exercise they should practice their hunting skills instead. That would be a useful way of spending one's time! And it would make them more interesting prey… Now, here was this weak human male who could definitely use some exercise, and what was he doing? 'Steve' felt a strong urge to jump him and feed on him right away, just to prove his point. He opened and clenched his fist, earning a stern look from his human 'companion'. Ah, yes. This McKay-person was supposed to be useful… no feeding, then. Not even a little bit… the green-skinned alien groaned to himself and glared at the ceiling.

John had a difficult task in front of him. As Rodney started putting on a pair of pants, babbling furiously about "privacy" and "knocking", Sheppard was trying his best to come up with a way to inform his scientist friend of the situation and actually convince him that it was true. Despite all the 'brain storming' he and that green, smartass Alien had done, they had not been able to agree on a plan to make McKay believe what was actually going on. The Colonel didn't want to freak his friend out more than necessary, while the Wraith seemed to think that the more they scared the little man, the better. Sheppard had a feeling 'Steve' really liked scaring people. This was not a trait the Lt Colonel particularly liked, and it had taken him about half an hour just to convince the ghost that _he_ should be in charge of…er, 'Operation Convince Doctor McKay'. And now he had no idea as to how to continue.

"Er… look, Rodney, I've got something I need to talk to you about…" he began, ruffling his dark hair absentmindedly, making it stand up like some kind of bush. He was interrupted by his now properly dressed friend.

"It's kind of late, and you really should've knocked, and there are these rumours about you, no offence, but you don't seem quite yourself, all that talk about a Wraith…" Rodney said in one breath, staring nervously at his comrade and gesticulating rather awkwardly.

"Erm, yeah, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. See, there's this ghost…"

"There's a ghost now?! Aw, come on!" McKay suddenly appeared annoyed. _Uh-oh_, thought John, _now he'll never shut up and I won't get to say a word…_

"Honestly, John, this is kind of... no offence, but there aren't any ghosts. It's just... imagination. You know?" Rodney's voice had become softer now, and he looked quite anxious as he slowly walked up to his friend.

"Did you... have a bad dream, or something? 'Cause that can happen, especially here, what with all those aliens popping about and..."

"No, Rodney." The Lt Colonel replied, calmly. "I haven't had a bad dream. Unless you count my life these last couple of days..." he glared at his ghostly comrade-in-misery who leered back at him, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Oh..." the scientist looked slightly worried. If there was a science problem that needed solving in a far too short time, Rodney was the Man. But this did not seem as that type of problem, he thought.

"Look, I'm... er, sorry you've had a hard time, but there's one thing that doesn't change, no matter what: There are no ghosts." The doctor stubbornly clang to this thought, the one thing that he was entirely sure of in this very situation. "No ghosts. That's superstition," he stated.

"Rodney..." Sheppard began, but it was evident that his friend had already made up his mind on the topic, for John was immediately interrupted:

"Maybe you should... hm, talk to someone?" The little scientist reached out a hand and clumsily patted his pal on the shoulder. The latter rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, that's kind of what I'm trying to do here," he explained, exasperated.

"Yes, well... I was thinking more along the lines of... a professional. That kind of someone. You know?" McKay was beginning to look ill at ease again. "You know... someone who can tell you that... this ghost thing is not real..." McKay's voice trailed off as he saw the look on John's face. "Just a thought!" he added, nervously."You don't have to..."

The Wraith was beginning to feel bored. There seemed to be no end to this McKay-human's babbling, and 'Steve' wasn't keen on babbling. He never had been. While he was alive, he'd occasionally happened to run across a prey that wouldn't stop talking. Annoying, it was. He especially remembered a female who had begun gibbering about how she couldn't possibly die, since her knitting was not finished yet. It didn't seem to occur to her that he would not be interested in knitting, whatever that was. Humans were indeed strange. And why did it take so long for his irritating companion to reveal the truth to the scientist? Should he perhaps take matters into his own talons? The thought was indeed tempting...

"I'm not going to see that crazy Heightmeyer-woman again!" John stated, his voice cold. "And I'm telling you, as crazy as it may seem, that there is in fact a ghost here. In this very room! You know me, Rodney, I'm not superstitious!"

A writing pad that had been lying on the bed about a yard from John suddenly made a leap into the air, missed Rodney' left temple by an inch or so, and landed on the floor by the window. The little man's mouth opened wide and he let out a small whimper.

"Shit, Steve, I had things under control!" Sheppard yelled and glared furiously at his silver-haired 'friend'. 'Steve' smirked.

"It did not seem like it," he pointed out, raising an eye brow. John started to say something, but cut himself short as he saw the look on the little doctor's face. McKay was staring at the pad, his face pale and his mouth still ajar. And then, before either Wraith or Human could react, Dr Rodney McKay quietly slumped onto the floor. For a second, there was complete silence.

"Oh, crap!" John muttered.


End file.
